


Bells Will Be Ringing

by subversivegrrl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Merle-typical epithets, No Walkers, not terribly shippy, season-appropriate hot beverages, some swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subversivegrrl/pseuds/subversivegrrl
Summary: Two strangers, a cup of cider, and an ice skating rink.





	

It was going to be a good Christmas.

She leaned on the wide rail, watching her daughter slide between two tall women in colorful ski jackets, being chased by a dark-haired boy in denim who wobbled as he followed her, clearly less confident on his skates. She didn’t know who the boy was, and didn’t really care, as long as her girl kept in sight.

It had been a difficult year for both of them; the chance to see her baby let down the weight of cares she’d carried right along with her mother was worth loosening the apron strings, at least for an hour or two.

“Stay on the ice, and come right back to me if you need something,” she’d instructed. “Don’t go wandering off on some adventure, no matter how innocent you think it sounds.”

“Yes, Mother.”

She had snorted at both the angelic tone and the momentary eye-roll that accompanied it. “Don’t get sassy with me, missy,” she warned, bending to plant a kiss on the top of her daughter’s sandy-blonde head. “Santa can still change his mind about that hoverboard, remember. Go, have fun.”

Now she relaxed, surrounded by happy faces flushed with chill and exertion, in a sea of sparkling white lights and red velvet bows and pine roping, while excited voices mixed with “Christmas Waltz” and “Marshmallow World” echoed across the ice. She wasn’t much for ice skating, herself: rickety ankles, she always claimed when asked. Truth was that her husband had taught her to skate, back when they were first dating, and the reminder left a bad taste in her mouth, even now that he was gone.

The concession stand line was dwindling, she saw, and she quickly made her way over while she had the chance. Hot chocolate for her baby girl, and cider for herself, their traditional choices. She set the two steaming cups on the rail and was stuffing her wallet into her too-small purse when the sound of angry voices a few feet away made the hair on the back of her neck rise. Two men, rough-looking, clad in denim and leather. Maybe drunk. Brothers? They had a similar look, a similarly broad-shouldered build. As she watched, the older one suddenly raised an open hand and struck the other across the face, rocking him down to his scuffed work boots. “ _Fine, then, you can just piss off. Fucking pansy-ass._ ” The words came clear in the sudden silence as the crowd drew away from them, parting like a wave breaking on the rocks. “ _Who needs you anyway?_ ” Then he was gone, stomping away from the dome, curious passersby turning to watch as he went. The second man stood for a long moment where he’d been left, head down, before he turned and moved toward the benches.

Her fingers were cramping, she realized, from the death grip she had on the railing.

She knew it all. The slashing, casual violence. The contempt in the man’s face. The way the younger man took the blow in mute acceptance.

She moved without thought, her attention fixed on where he sat, his unseeing eyes piercing through the skaters like they were made of glass.

A few steps away she stopped. She must be out of her mind. He was a complete stranger, and likely wouldn’t welcome her intrusion.

He looked up just then, as if he felt her eyes on him. “Fuck you want?” he snarled. The mark on his cheekbone was beginning to show purple beneath the red where knuckles had struck.

“I need a partner,” she stammered. “My ankles aren’t strong enough to skate on my own. I need someone to help me get around without falling down.” It was the best she could do on short notice.

“Get the hell away from me.” His eyes, gray-blue, were slitted with suspicion and nearly buried beneath a fringe of dark, greasy bangs.

She knew she really should have taken that suggestion, but instead she stepped closer and held out both cups. “Cocoa, or cider?”

His face was a picture of disbelief and confusion. “What do you want from me?”

“I want…” What did she want? What on earth did she expect to accomplish, confronting this man out of the blue? “I wanted to say, I saw what he did, and I’ve been there, and it can be better. It can. I did it. I got tired of being the scapegoat, and I left. You don’t have to put up with it.” Surely now he would walk away from her.

“Ain’t like that,” he huffed, huddling down into the collar of his inadequate jacket and shivering as a wave of cold air wafted through the rink. “Ain’t none of your business anyway.”

“I know,” she said, and sat down next to him, her stomach curdling at the risk she was taking. “But nonetheless, I wish someone had said it to me a long time ago. I hoped you might take it the same way.”

“Mom, watch my new trick!” Her daughter slid to a stop in front of them. “Hi?” she said, raising an eyebrow at her mother.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m watching.” She’d have some explaining to do, later.

The new trick was skating backward, the blades tracing little S curves in the ice, and she applauded until her hands hurt. “Bravo, look at you!” The girl grinned and waved before she vanished back into the crowd.

Her companion’s attention followed her daughter’s disappearing form. “That why you got out?”

“Mm,” she said, “partly. Mostly. She was the initial spark, and then when I saw how relieved she was when I told her we were leaving--she was the reason I was able to keep from going back, no matter how terrified I was that it was all going to come crashing down around us.”

“Ain’t got anything like that,” he muttered, and his voice seemed to crack a little. “Just me and him, like it’s always been. Like how it’s always gonna be.” He didn’t seem to notice that she’d managed to hand off the cider to him, and he sipped at it distractedly, the cup nestled within his bare hands. She doubted he’d ever talked about things like this, with anyone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish I knew how to give you--” It was too much. “You deserve better. That I know for sure.”

“You’re crazy, you know,” he said. “I coulda cleaned your clock for sticking your nose in where it don’t belong.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well, thanks for that. For not ‘cleaning my clock,’ that is. I don’t always have the most sense when I get my dander up.” It was time to go. “My name is Carol, by the way.” She put out her hand.

“Daryl,” he said shortly, looking at the hand until she put it back in her pocket. “Dixon.” It didn’t mean anything to her, although from the way he said it he seemed to think it should.

“If I gave you my phone number, Daryl Dixon, would you call it sometime, let me know how you’re doing?” She didn’t know why she cared so much. Paying it forward, maybe. Giving him the encouragement she’d so desperately needed to make a break from Ed. To end it before he ended her.

“Not likely,” he said. “Ain’t got a phone right now.” But then he dug in his pockets and came out with a scrap of paper. “You got a pen? Write it down on this. I ain’t promising nothing.”

She tried to tell herself he held himself a little straighter as he walked away. That he would find the strength in the new year to get away from his brother, to make a new life for himself. It was harder than she expected, to think she would probably never know.

Sophia skated up shortly after, her breath steaming and her cheeks cherry pink. The cocoa was almost cold by then, so after they returned the skates they went back to the concession stand and got another round to drink as they headed back to the parking lot. Sophia pointedly didn’t ask about the strange man her mother had been talking to, although knowing her she’d save it for the heat of some argument.

Her phone buzzed as they were getting into the car. _Unknown number._ “Carol?”

Her heart thumped erratically. “Daryl?”

“I just wanted to say thanks. I might be calling you, if that’s okay.”

“You’re very much welcome. And I’ll look forward to it.” And then he was gone.

She smiled down at the blank screen in her hand, and Sophia groaned. “Geez, Mom. Picking up some icky biker dude?”

“Hush, you. He was just someone who needed a kind word.”

It was going to be a good Christmas.


End file.
